as i walked around the parking lot of the fire department in port monmouth in one of the days soon after sandy had laid waste to so much of our state, i saw so many of the scenes that i had come to expect in the aftermath of the storm -- neighbors helping neighbors, food being prepared for the hungry, first responders helping the homeless. then i met 9-year-old ginjer. having a 9-year-old girl myself, her height and manner of speaking was immediately familiar and evocative. having confronted so many crying adults at that point i felt ready to deal with anything. then ginjer looked at me, began to cry and told me she was scared. she told me she had lost everything -- she had lost her home and her belongings. she asked me to help her. as my eyes filled with tears, i took a deep breath and thought about what i would say to my bridget if she said the same thing to me, if she had the same look on her face, if she had the same tears in her eyes. i asked her where her mom was and she pointed right behind her. i asked her if her dad was ok. she told me he was. so i told ginjer, you haven't lost

as i walked around the parking lot of the fire department in port monmouth in one of the days soon after sandy had laid waste to so much of our state, i saw so many of the scenes that i had come to expect in the aftermath of the storm -- neighbors helping neighbors, food being prepared for the hungry, first responders helping the homeless. then i met 9-year-old ginjer. having a 9-year-old girl myself, her height and manner of speaking was immediately familiar and evocative. having confronted so many crying adults at that point i felt ready to deal with anything. then ginjer looked at me, began to cry and told me she was scared. she told me she had lost everything -- she had lost her home and her belongings. she asked me to help her. as my eyes filled with tears, i took a deep breath and thought about what i would say to my bridget if she said the same thing to me, face, eyes. i asked her where her mom was and she pointed right behind her. i asked her if her dad was ok. she told me he was. so i told ginjer, you haven't lost your home, you've just lost a house, a house we can replace. your

as i walked around the parking lot of the fire department in port monmouth in one of the days soon after sandy had laid waste to so much of our state, i saw so many of the scenes that i had come to expect in the aftermath of the storm -- neighbors helping neighbors, food being prepared for the hungry, first responders helping the homeless. then i met 9-year-old ginjer. having a 9-year-old girl myself, her height and manner of speaking was immediately familiar and evocative. having confronted so many crying adults at that point i felt ready to deal with anything. then ginjer looked at me, began to cry and told me she was scared. she told me she had lost everything -- she had lost her home and her belongings. she asked me to help her. as my eyes filled with tears, i took a deep breath and thought about what i would say to my bridget if she said the same thing to me, if she had the same look on her face, if she had the same tears in her eyes. i asked her where her mom was and she pointed right behind her. i asked her if her dad was ok. she told me he was. so i told ginjer, you haven't lost